The day of the reaping is here again. You nervously join the other children of age in rows, waiting to hear who this year's tributes will be. As you always, you try to keep a straight, calm face. As the daughter of District 12's only living victor, you can't let anyone see that you're afraid.
You listen to the announcements and the speeches about the war and all that nonsense without really listening. You're waiting for the same thing everyone else is waiting for.
Finally, the tributes are announced. You look around, but you don't see your father. For the last few years, Haymitch Abernathy had always stood silently in the crowd, waiting to find out if his daughter was doomed.
But you've been lucky the last few years. Your name has never been called, and you've had nothing to fear.
"Y/N Abernathy!"
You freeze as everyone turns to look at you. It can't be. There has to be some kind of mistake, you think.
And then you're being pulled up to the stage, where people will only continue to stare at you. This is your nightmare, being up on this stage, announced as a tribute. You don't even pay attention to who your fellow tribute is. You don't want to be here at all.
~~~~~~
It isn't until you're on the train to the Capitol that you and your father say anything to each other. You've been sitting silently in one of the compartments, side-by-side.
"I'm going to mentor you the best I can," he finally says. "These people seem to think that because I won one of these stupid games, I'm able to teach children how to survive."
"But you go every year," you say.
"Yeah, and do any of those kids ever come out alive? I'm not a teacher. I'm an old man who gets dragged out here every year to watch the kids he helps get slaughtered."
"Then I'll be different," you say. "I'll spend all of my time training. I'll do everything I can to win."
He sighs and shakes his head. "I never wanted this for you, Y/N. I never wanted you to have to become a killer."
"Dad, you know I'll do it of it means I can come home to you."
He nods. "I know. Come here, kid."
He pulls you into a hug, and you hold each other tight. You'll do it. You'll win the Hunger Games, whatever it takes.
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Multi-Fandom Imagines
FanfictionA series of imagines from different fandoms. Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this book. All rights go to their respective creators.
